


Sandman

by sakasamasa



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Napping, Only slightly shippy, just slightly everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 16:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15998810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakasamasa/pseuds/sakasamasa
Summary: The Archaean is impatient, Ardyn is decidedly weird and Noctis just wants to sleep.





	Sandman

**Coernix station - Cauthess.**

**\--**

“We sure about this?” Gladiolus voiced what had been gnawing at their collective conscience for the past few hours. The ensuing silence was a decisive _no_.

“It’s fine,” Noctis said with all the assurance he couldn’t quite muster.

The truth of the matter was that it was most certainly _not_ fine. The only thing Noctis considered _fine_ in this situation was the fact that he didn’t have to drive a car while suffering from a very persistent headache anymore. The only real reason he’d agreed to make an unplanned pit stop this close to the Disc of Cauthess was because he feared he might drive himself, the Regalia and his friends straight through the guard rails and off the road in his condition.

_Estranged Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum (20) dies in car crash near Disc of Cauthess_. It had a nice ring to it. He hoped the media would at the very least include his friends’ names in the lead statement.

To his credit, he’d done a fantastic job of keeping up the pretence of being okay so far. Even so, the Astral-induced headache only seemed to grow stronger with each nearing mile of the Disc, which was completely unreasonable on the Archaean’s part. Noctis could only hope the other Astrals would be more forgiving.

“Okay!” Prompto’s chipper voice interrupted his musings, “See you guys in a bit.”

Noctis blinked, vaguely remembering the conversation that had ensued before he’d started staring off into space. Something about caravans over yonder and restocking curatives. He watched as Ignis and Gladiolus disappeared into the convenience store just a few paces away.

“Eos to Noct. You in there, buddy?”

He turned to meet Prompto’s fragile smile, its sunny warmth entirely overshadowed by an uneasy furrow in his brows. Noctis was sure he mimicked the other’s expression as his eyes flicked to Ardyn leisurely sauntering off to Six knows where, the remnants of a frustratingly conniving smirk still on his lips. His entirely too present ensemble of dark fabrics swayed with his movements, like a cliched villain’s cape billowing in the breeze. He then remembered just why his friends were so reluctant to put a hold on their progress.

“I’m still not so sure about this Ardyn guy,” Prompto huffed. That same sentiment had been put forth a dozen times in a dozen different ways, but it still rang true. At this point it began to sound like a mantra.

“We’ll be fine, Prom.” He spoke softly, as if the slimy wine-haired eccentric far removed from earshot could hear them still. The notion -though horrifying- didn’t surprise him as much as it should. More so horrifying -yet just as unsurprising- was the following notion that that same slimy eccentric had been keeping tabs on the four of them throughout their journey. He’d figured as much after their supposedly chance reunion in Lestallum. The man definitely had an agenda, and Noctis could only conjure up so many theories on what it could be before he’d have to take a nap from the mental exertion. Try as he might, each theory could be traced back to the singular hypothesis that _Ardyn was bad news_. Because of that, along with the ceaseless headache, he’d elected to not think too much about the situation, decidedly ignoring accusatory thoughts of impending doom and questionable decision making.

A familiar stab pulsed behind his eyes, effectively putting an end to his retrospective train of thought. The Archaean seemed all the more eager to remind him of his godly impatience now that Noctis was standing still. He braced himself, though what he expected would be a minor surge of pain turned out to be much worse as he caught himself lurching forward from the force of it. The world tilted with him behind eyelids pressed shut. What filled the plummeting darkness in his vision was a barrage of sights unseen and sounds unheard, the smell of sulphur and ancient magic stinging his nose. The Archaean once more called out to him with a booming, urging roar that threatened to split his head in two, but he couldn’t make out anything through the haze of pain. Opening his throbbing eyes, he zeroed in on the little cracks and crevasses in the weathered asphalt below, holding on to them tightly as he rode out the wave of torment to no avail.

“Noct,” Prompto called out to him from somewhere. “Noct, what’s happening?”

_I don’t know._ S _top, it hurts, stop it_. _Prompto, help me._ The words revolved around his head loud and clear, but his voice remained unwilling. Just as he began fearing for his life, the Astral’s thunder fell short midway. It echoed into the deepest recesses of his mind, fading like waves crashing onto shore. The visions, once so bright and vivid, melted into the asphalt like snow in the sun. Awareness returned to him slowly, the pain ebbing away with a slowing rhythm he belatedly realised was the heartbeat in his ears. Two hands provided a steadying, comforting weight against his shoulders. He leaned into them, catching his breath with relief. With that painless bliss came weariness, washing over him like a all-engulfing tidal wave. He might’ve fallen asleep right there were it not for the call of his name forcefully dragging him back up from the depths.

“…Oct! Noct!”

Ushered to attention by the panic in Prompto’s voice, he tore his unwilling eyes away from the ground. _I’m okay_ , he wanted to say, but the words died on his lips as he found himself looking up at stern amber eyes and wine-coloured locks. He hurriedly backed away, in doing so slightly bumping into Ignis and Gladiolus who were standing ready behind him like a wall. Where Ardyn’s gloved hands had touched remained a warmth that rapidly cooled, leaving him feeling eerily chilled in the summery air.

Ardyn looked at him with a detached sort of curiosity. Next to him, Prompto’s mouth was still agape and his bright eyes were full of fear. It took him several seconds to catch on.

“I’m okay,” he forced out, his own words an odd intrusion in the tense silence.

At least Prompto seemed unconvinced, the worry on his face not waning.

“Really, Prom,” Noctis added, “It… doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“So this is the Archaean’s call?” Ardyn’s words were concerningly void of concern, but Noctis was busy enough trying to keep track of his words.

“Yes,” Ignis cut in impatiently, colliding with- and easily drowning out Noctis’ muttered response, “And I do believe I speak for all four of us when I say I’d rather not want a repeat of this any time soon. As such, we should proceed to the Disc without any further delay.“

“What awaits you is an _Astral_ ,” Ardyn’s tone was a little too pressing to be considered nonchalant, “I had hoped the Prince’s wellbeing would be in your best interest as his royal retainer, but perhaps I was mistaken in my assessment.”

Ignis took a challenging step forward, looking positively furious behind a cracking veil of composure.

“I beg your pardon?”

“He is in no condition to face the Archaean,” Ardyn explained, “And I don’t suppose it’d be unreasonable of me to assume none of you are, either.”

“He’s right.”

Several pairs of eyes turned to him. Noctis didn’t feel particularly good about agreeing with the man, but he had a point. The four had barely rested upon returning to Lestallum from their last Royal Tomb raid before they were summoned by the Archaean himself. Their recent circumstances simply hadn’t allowed them to rest, and by now Noctis wagered he couldn’t take down a garulet without collapsing from exhaustion halfway through.

“Ardyn’s right.” The words felt foreign and wrong on his tongue. “We’re all tired, and I don’t think Titan’s going to let us off easy, regardless of what he has planned. We’re staying here for the night.”

Ignis visibly deflated, and Noctis privately revelled in the satisfaction of having defused the situation so quickly. Still, it wasn’t nice seeing his friends upset. He glared at Ardyn for good measure, who seemed entirely unaffected by the gesture. Instead, his lips curled into an annoyingly devious smirk, any trace of genuine emotion gone with the wind.

“A wise choice, Your Highness.”

“Don’t push it,” Noctis bit out.

Ignis relented with a sigh. “I’ll trust your judgement, Noct. Are you certain you’re alright now?”

Noctis nodded resolutely, putting a lid on the matter.

An undercurrent of discomfort hung heavy in the air as the five stood, the sheer tension clashing with the laid-back atmosphere of the rest stop. Noctis suddenly wanted nothing more than to leave, and apparently Prompto felt the same way. They glanced at each other and, like most best friends, that was enough to warrant understanding.

“Wow, I am, uh, starving?” Prompto offered hastily, “Noct, let’s go grab some food.”  
  
Positively done with being the centre of attention, Noctis nodded, following Prompto as they broke away from the rest. With a gait that was obviously faster than considered casual, the two made their way to the nearby eatery. Noctis didn’t dare turn around, not even when Ardyn’s low voice rang out in the stillness. He also didn’t turn to look when Gladiolus’ voice followed, harsh and clipped. Ignis and Gladiolus could handle themselves, he told himself. Noctis felt he had other things to worry about as the beginnings of another headache began nibbling at his brain.

 

—

 

Noctis pressed his face deeper into the bedding, pressing his wrists against the side of his head as if it would alleviate the throbbing ache that bounded off its walls. He grit his teeth as a particularly sharp stab pierced his skull. Cursing the Archaean for what felt like the hundredth time, he sent out a halfhearted prayer to any other deity willing to lend an ear and wished for reprieve. He wanted to rest, to sleep, but _Six_ , it was impossible. He’d already taken enough painkillers to just barely exceed the daily allowed intake, but he came to accept that no earthly medicine could relieve him of whatever transmundane migraine was bestowed upon him. Giving in to the pain, he opened his eyes to the darkened interior of the caravan. Soft light poured in from the curtained windows. Even something so gentle seemed to intensify the sting behind his eyes.

He’d contemplated getting out of bed many times before, each time deciding against what he knew was a useless solution to his problem. Maybe it was some sort of innate response to get away from whatever was hurting him, but he figured he couldn’t leave his own head behind to deal with later. He sat upright, the mattress whining beneath his weight. He peered into the dimness, casting hazy gazes over the sleeping forms of his friends. Asking for help sounded enticing, but he knew his friends couldn’t provide much respite even if they wanted to. He stilled his hand before it’d reached the steady rise and fall of Gladiolus’ shoulder.

Another pinprick threatened to force a whimper from his throat, and he made to stand slowly. He didn’t want to wake his friends with his shifting and shuffling. If _he_ couldn’t rest, he could at least grant them the luxury.

 

The nightly air outside the caravan was somewhat pleasant in contrast to the heat pooling behind his eyes. That relief lasted mere seconds, however, and then it was back to hurting perpetually.

_Where to now?_

He realised he hadn’t actually planned that far ahead. After regarding the slippers he’d toed on with vague interest for a minute, he concluded that the Regalia would be his best bet. Perhaps he could even try for a nap in the backseat like he always did and pretend he wasn’t suffering at the expense of an impatient Astral. He hadn’t even put one foot in front of the other before a large shadow blocked his path.

“Ah, Your Highness. Are you quite alright?”

Noctis didn’t mean to groan in exasperation as harshly as he did, but Ardyn probably didn’t care either way.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Look,” Noctis started, racking his already overworked brain to find the right words, “I really don’t need...”

He paused to gesture vaguely with his right hand, “ _This_ right now, so please...”

“Please what?” Ardyn cocked his head, regarding the other with feigned innocence. Noctis could’ve -and would’ve- punched the man right then and there if he’d been sure his fist would connect with its intended target. Maybe he’d justify it as payback for invading his best friend’s personal space at dinner. Maybe he’d justify it as testing his hypothesis. Maybe he wouldn’t justify it at all. Serves Ardyn right for being the way he was.

“Gods, you- It’s, like, one in the morning. Why are you even up?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

As if by cruel design, a sudden wave of knifelike pulses left Noctis uselessly gripping at his scalp as he bit back a gasp. His head throbbed like a caged beast, thrashing and rebelling against the Archaean’s torment.

“Oh dear.”

Between the gaps in his fingers he noticed Ardyn reaching out to him, and an inexplicable dread surmounted the smothering pain. It felt eerily similar to meeting the ravenous gaze of a coeurl just before it would leap from the thick foliage with bared teeth and bloodlust. In that split-second moment, he was convinced; every suspicion was cemented. Ardyn had been biding his time, and now that Noctis was alone, incapacitated and unarmed he would strike. The trap was laid the moment they met in Lestallum, and now Noctis had walked right into it. He considered that he could just as well be borderline delirious at this point, but he pushed that notion aside in favour of survival. Taking a step back, he shoved at Ardyn’s outstretched hand so fiercely he lost his balance. He staggered, and was caught by the very thing he’d tried to ward off. The other’s touch was startlingly warm against his chilled skin, so much that for a moment it felt like burning. He tore his arm from the other’s thankfully loose grasp, now careful to keep his feet planted to the asphalt.

“Noctis.” It could have passed for a shout, if only for the deafening silence that followed. Amber eyes, inky in the subdued light of a nearby lamppost, demanded his attention amidst the tumult in and outside his skull.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Noctis’ mouth, ready to spit poison and fire, snapped shut. The words were brought forth with an honesty he would expect from anyone but Ardyn, and while he remained unconvinced, he stilled. Ardyn straightened back up.

“Let’s get you sat down somewhere,” he said.

Unable to settle for an answer, Noctis gave a small hum of acknowledgement. A part of him wanted to retreat back into the safe confines of the caravan, but another part subsequently reminded him he wouldn’t be any more safe there than where he was standing. Even if the man had vowed not to harm him only seconds before, there was no force on this Gods-given earth that would compel Noctis to take his words at face value. Warily, he followed Ardyn as the man led him away from the caravan to what he belatedly registered as his car.

Noctis liked to think of himself as a rather open-minded individual, but what Ardyn lovingly dubbed his “automobile” had certainly tested the limits on what he considered socially appropriate or aesthetically feasible. At least its coat colour, an exemplary echo of Ardyn’s overall showiness, seemed refreshingly unobtrusive to its surroundings at night. He resisted voicing any kind of qualms he had with the other’s vehicle and life choices as he let himself be guided into the backseat, plopping down unceremoniously as soon as the door was opened. He immediately regretted doing so as his mind reeled at the sudden movement, his fingernails digging into smooth leather. A remnant of the Archaean’s roar, urging and loud in the quietude, had him worried he was due to experience another set of harrowing visions, but none came. Steadying his breathing, he opened his eyes to see Ardyn scrutinising him like a doctor would his patient, with measured interest and icy remoteness. He was close to telling the other off, but Ardyn spoke before he could.

“May I?”

He didn’t exactly wait for an answer, but any word of indignant protest fell by the wayside when Noctis felt his bangs being pushed aside, followed by the soft press of fingertips against his forehead. The other barely grazed him, but after mere seconds Noctis’ entire being seemed to react to the contact. At first it was jarring, like jumping headfirst into water, and he instinctively held his breath. His senses dulled as though he had been submerged, a pressure building in his ears as he sank deeper into darker depths. Panic twinged in his gut, but he couldn’t fight the blackness encroaching his mind. Then he surfaced, a painless sort of clarity washing over him. The quiet absence of the Archaean’s rumble was a familiar surprise. He blinked the haziness from his vision, and looked at Ardyn.

He realised the other’s outward appearances rarely expanded much further beyond dubiously conniving or unbelievably dramatic, and now Noctis had the good fortune of experiencing something entirely different. Bewilderment, clear as crystal, painted the other’s face in a new, odd light. The lacking lines of age carving shadowy grooves into his slackened features made him look considerably kinder. Beneath raised brows his eyes were wide, exposing a fragility Noctis didn’t feel he had permission to see. His lips had parted slightly, but it didn’t look like he was about to voice whatever was going through his mind. His touch, still as cautious, had drifted to the side of Noctis’ head at some point. It felt nostalgic and comforting, and that was exactly what none too gently shoved Noctis back into present time.

“What was that?” His tone was softer than intended, but still it rang out clearly through the space between them.

“I don’t quite know,” Ardyn answered dazedly, lost in his own thoughts. It might’ve been a lie, but Noctis couldn’t really imagine how. He then retracted his hand, schooling his expression into utter blankness, which then by some ingrained habit shifted into a ghost of a smirk. Gone was the softness.

“No, seriously,” Noctis pressed, “What did you do?”

“Merely checking your temperature.”

He gave the other what he hoped would be his most unimpressed scowl yet. As ever, Ardyn remained just shy of insufferable.

“Ardyn,” he demanded.

The façade of ignorance persisted, and Noctis suspected he was fighting a useless battle.

“Well, whatever you did…”

He stopped himself before he thanked the man. He wasn’t going to let Ardyn goad him into saying it either, so he made to stand. Moving his body didn’t hurt his brain anymore, though his limbs felt uncooperative, gravitating to the ground if he didn’t put in the effort to remain upright. A chill spread where the warmed leather left him.

“I’m heading back. Shouldn’t you…?”

Noctis didn’t particularly feel the need to elaborate, but Ardyn did look like he just put forward a complex riddle for the other to solve.

“…Go to sleep, too?” he added, just in case.

“Ah, yes,” Ardyn said, as if he’d just remembered that’s a thing that people do. “I shall join you shortly. Don’t linger for my sake.”

Noctis snorted, leaving the open car door as it was and turning to leave. He didn’t look back at Ardyn.

“Trust me, I won’t.”

 

—

 

He found himself standing next to the same wine-coloured clunker he sat in less than an hour earlier with his head hanging in defeat. Whatever feat of wonder Ardyn had performed didn’t last for longer than a minute, and the blissful absence of terrible migraines was gone before he’d quietly closed the caravan door behind him. Noctis had spent the next half hour cradling his head in his hands all the same, cursing the Archaean and turning aimlessly on a hard mattress before giving in to a desire he didn’t particularly liked to see fulfilled. Asking for help was easy. Asking Ardyn for help was a definitive blow to his pride.

The man sat propped up against the opposing car door with his awful hat over his eyes, gloved hand resting on his cheek. Why he hadn’t just chosen to sleep in the caravan was an odd little mystery, but Noctis had more pressing matters to attend to.

“Hey,” he said, for a moment doubtful that it was loud enough to grab the other’s attention.

Fortunately, Ardyn stirred, flicking his hat upwards and sitting upright without missing a beat.

“Your Highness. Back so soon.” His voice, though clipped and slightly irritated, didn’t sound at all like he’d been asleep.

For a moment Noctis felt unwelcome, but he brushed it off. Besides, it was only fair for Ardyn to feel vaguely discomforted by another’s presence for once. He swallowed his pride as he opened the car door, sliding into the backseat with care this time. It did little to relieve the headache, but at least his world didn’t tilt as much as he moved. The door clicked shut, and an expectant silence followed. The leather below shifted with him.

“So…” He started, trailing off immediately.

“Hm?”

“…That thing you did. When you- Do it again…?”

It sounded half as commanding as he’d intended. Stumbling through sentences like that didn’t exactly exude an air of respectable authority, either.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific,” Ardyn drawled, watching him like a sated cat would a mouse.

“I mean when you-,” Noctis stopped himself abruptly before he said something he would regret for the rest of his days.

“Hold out your hand,” he demanded instead.

Ardyn’s eyes narrowed, an unimpressed frown tugging at his lips.

“Please?” He tried again.

This time the other complied. His hand appeared from a sea of black fabric and ruffles, careful but welcoming nonetheless.

Noctis was hesitant to take it, but a stab of pain that shot through his head reminded him why he was here in the first place. He moved closer to the other, becoming aware of just how isolated they were. The rest stop was void of people, no cars would pass by at this hour and the only sound that accompanied the rumble in his head was the gentle hiss of the wind in the trees. He lifted his hand, and the space between them was gone. Once more, a surge of numbness rushed to greet him, enveloping him in a heavy murkiness before stranding him in some dreamy world that paralleled his own, nightly air and leather seats and all. Perhaps it was the oncoming fatigue that made Noctis let himself breathe a shaky sigh of relief at the painlessness. He looked up, half expecting the other to make some cheeky remark at his reaction. Ardyn didn’t look like he was going to act the part and pretend he didn’t know what happened, nor did he seem eager to chide. This time his face remained stern and postured, if a bit curious, and Noctis caught himself wanting to see something else. He wanted to see that strange sliver of unbridled emotion again.

“You felt that too, right?”

“Why, I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Your Highness.” Ardyn didn’t blink once as he spoke.

“ _Six_ , you’re stubborn,” Noctis griped, but he didn’t back away. Didn’t want to. He led the other’s hand to the seat as he leaned back, letting his eyes fall shut. His eyelids seemed to stick together and he had to plant his head onto the headrest to keep it from lolling to the side under its own weight. Staying awake had suddenly become a chore, and he was very eager to leave that particular task for tomorrow's him to deal with. He felt the other stir and he tightened his weakening grip.

“Don’t…” He managed to murmur out, mustering an edge of princely demand into his voice. It didn’t seem to work on Ardyn, who made a noise that could have passed for a sigh as he withdrew his hand. Noctis could’ve sworn he felt a snap in the back of his skull as the contact was broken. A rustling noise followed, but he couldn’t be bothered to force his eyelids apart.

“I wouldn’t know what compelled you to sleep here of all places,” Ardyn lied through his teeth, “but I do know we can’t have you catching a cold before your rendezvous with our dreadfully insistent deity.”

He jolted as a heaviness was draped over him, and his eyes opened just enough to see most of his body obscured by a layer of glossy darkness, the white of his slippers barely sticking out from under the hem of Ardyn’s massive coat. Bunched up snakes of floral-patterned scarves hung over the driver’s seat. Every aspect of Ardyn’s being seemed to favour complicated and mysterious layers, his choice of clothing notwithstanding. Even after having cast off the excessive amount of fabric that was his coat, along with entirely unnecessary embroidered hood-scarves, he still looked rather overdressed. What lay beneath was a spectacle of buckles and ruffles reminiscent of some Solheim-age fashion trend. Beneath that was a body built enough to somehow sustain all those layers, yet not enough to make the ensemble seem ill-fitting. Noctis closed his eyes so he could let that particular train of thought stop dead in its tracks. His hand slithered out from under the coat, grabbing at air before being caught by Ardyn’s. It felt somehow natural, despite the inherent wrongness of it all. The anaesthetic blackness felt inviting, and this time Noctis let himself be carried under the rolling waves of awareness. An afterthought resembling Ignis urged him to assess the fact that he was _holding hands_ with _Ardyn_ , but he was too tired to care. The Archaean was silent now, and that was all he cared about, he told himself.

“ _Aren’t you cold?_ ” He wanted to ask.

“Thanks,” he uttered instead. Perhaps Ardyn didn’t respond. Perhaps he’d drifted away before he could’ve heard it.

 

—

 

Noctis pawed lazily at the warmth enveloping him, trying to pull it over his shoulders more than it already was and feeling his feet grow cold in the process. He leaned into a solid wall keeping him anchored to his spot on the heated leather, burying his face into it as if it would block out whatever had woken him in the first place.

“Your Highness.”

His heart skipped a beat as a familiar voice entered his hearing at a completely unfamiliar distance. Specifically, too close. His head shot up from the wall that was Ardyn, bleary eyes blinking fast to push away the haze of sleep.

“Six,” he breathed with an embarrassingly sleep-laced voice, “Sorry, I- I didn’t…”

Ardyn chuckled without a hint of malice. It was a soothing sound, unbefitting of the person it came from. Noctis attributed the quickened beating of his heart to being woken up so suddenly, but even that already said much more than he’d ever want to admit.

“What time is it?”

“It’s past dawn,” Ardyn said, “You should return to your retainers before they notice your absence.”

Noctis realised that there was indeed a world beyond cushioned seats and metal plating that ultimately provided little shelter from its vastness. As if to illustrate a point, a cargo truck sailed past on the road nearby. Its headlights were still on, the coming sun’s light bright enough to banish the daemons but not enough to provide sufficient distinction in the dimness. Birds had begun playing their ritualistic ensemble of chirps and peeps in the distant treetops. The sheer tranquility of it all was an odd contrast to the flutter in his chest. He gave the hand somewhat lost beneath a blanket of soft black fabric an experimental squeeze to find it still interlinked with Ardyn’s, which really didn’t help at all.

“Or, if you’d rather stay…” Ardyn let him fill in the blanks, a lazy smirk plastered on his face all the while.

Noctis hastily untangled his fingers, feeling a dull twinge behind his eyes as he did so. Then he slowed himself, as to not seem too hasty in his escape. He wasn’t about to give the other the satisfaction of seeing him so flustered. Ardyn had already had his fair share of twisted enjoyment at his expense. Letting the coat fall to his lap, he stretched as much as the lack of space allowed. His everything was a bit sore, but he figured a hard mattress would’ve made a minor difference.

“Nah, I’m good.” He returned the smirk, though it probably paled in comparison.

His face fell slack as he rubbed at his eyes, looking up afterwards to meet the other’s gaze. Ardyn was observing him with that same calculating blankness, and while Noctis had spent a good few hours unconscious and vulnerable at the man’s side, he decided now was the time to start feeling unsafe. Despite his primal conscience telling him to hightail it back to the caravan, or perhaps because of it, he decided to do the exact opposite.

“So,” he started slowly, “about that cab fare…”

At that moment Noctis solemnly vowed to never try his hand at cleverness again. At least his very ambiguous quip had wiped the creepiness off of Ardyn’s face as his brows had raised ever so slightly. The amber in his eyes seemed to glint with delight as a huff of breathy laughter escaped him. Then he shook his head.

“You are quite something, Noctis,” he said, “Trust me when I say what is to come will be payment enough. But if you truly are so keen on paying your debts, you will have to devise a suitable recompense yourself, I’m afraid.”

Noctis made it seem like he was mulling the suggestion over, but he was more so fixated on the words before that. Once again, a flicker of unease sparked within him as he realised Ardyn probably knew much more than he let on, and he wasn’t being very subtle about it.

“That so? I’ll think about it,” he said, making it very obvious he wasn’t about to do any thinking on Ardyn’s behalf. He moved to open the opposite car door, and halted just as his slippers touched the cold asphalt. The Archaean’s voice wasn’t as quick to return this time, and he hoped the silence would last. He turned back to Ardyn.

“Thanks again,” was all he could muster before he stood up and started walking back towards the caravan, intentionally keeping his pace as leisurely as possible. Even without the headache, even in the calm of dawn, his mind was uncomfortably abuzz.

“My pleasure,” Ardyn called after him, and Noctis didn’t need to turn around to know the other was smiling.


End file.
